


the spaces between your fingers (are right where mine fit perfectly)

by scarletseeker113, Scribe34



Series: There were days when each hour was a war I fought to survive [4]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Avengers Movie Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, The Avengers- All Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:43:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletseeker113/pseuds/scarletseeker113, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe34/pseuds/Scribe34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Brucy fics, because out of all the Avengers ships that we ship, we ship Brucy the most, because it's both unexpected and so, so adorable. Title from Owl City's "Vanilla Twilight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oranges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt given me to my roommate and co-author scarletseeker113, having to include Bruce, Darcy, and oranges.

 Darcy glances down at the time display on her laptop. It is not made by Stark Industries, which Tony pretends to take as a personal offense a lot of the time. She knows he doesn't really mind it, and she has a Starkpad for work anyway. She won't have it for much longer, though. She's made a decision. A very important decision.

"Lewis," says Tony, walking in, "I just got your two-weeks notice, you were serious about that?"

He's holding a Starkpad that has a message display on it, no doubt the email she sent him and told JARVIS to make sure he reads.

"Yeah," says Darcy, trying to make it light-hearted, "I'm thinking of moving to Canada. Or England. I would totally move to England."

He waves her off. "Yeah, yeah, we all know you adore everything that BBC makes. Whatever. But you're actually resigning?"

"I am," says Darcy. She can feel tears, or the sharp, salty edge of them, burning at the corners of her eyes. Tony sounds incredulous in the way he does when he's honestly kind of hurt by something.

"I swear to God if you're offended by my harassment I'll leave you alone," says Tony quickly, "you're the best PA I ever had, please don't go, they'll saddle me with a SHIELD monkey who tells Fury everything I do-"

"It's not you, dumbass," says Darcy, being harsh to keep herself from crying. "It's me. Getting kidnapped kind of freaked me out. A lot. I'm taking a deep breath. I'm thinking about what options I have in life. And I have a few ideas."

"Oh?" says Tony, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah." Darcy smiles, closing her laptop. "I've thought about culinary school, but I really don't want to do that, because to do it right I would have to go to, like, France, and I have an extreme desire not to leave Bruce or learn French or do anything that involves more than a month's worth of paperwork."

"I bet I could find a good one in New York-"

"Tony, stop," says Darcy, just as he's about to begin typing things into the Starkpad. "I know I don't want to go to culinary school. I've also considered doing a doctorate at Columbia, but I don't think that's a good idea, either. What I want is to keep cooking. I know a lot of fantastic recipes and I love doing it and I love cooking for large groups. It is so much fun. But I'd like to... I don't know, do more."

Tony studies her, then says, "I feel like you have something in mind."

"I want to start a diner," says Darcy. "From breakfast to dinner, 7 am to 9 pm, with employees so that I don't have to work all day every day, so I can spend time with Bruce."

"I would pay for some of the food you make," says Tony. "Like those cupcakes you made, the ones I'm pretty sure you threw a splash of Bailey's into the mixture and that I _know_ you threw some into the frosting? Bailey's cupcakes. I'm hungry. You have any of those in here?"

"I only made those for your birthday," says Darcy. "They're a once-a-year kind of thing. My problem is that I just have a few of the kinks to work out still. And I want to talk to Pepper about it, and to Bruce."

"What, my advice isn't good enough for you, Lewis?"

"If I were asking you how to fix my laptop- well, no, not even then," says Darcy, grinning. "If you're hungry, I left Asiago cheese rolls in the fridge."

Tony bolts from her little office just off the labs. She adopted it on purpose, so that she could sneak in and watch Bruce at work when she wasn't too busy. It wouldn't be hers for too much longer.

 

Bruce has split his concentration into several areas. One part of him is concentrating on what he's doing with his hands, the chemicals he's playing with. One part of him is observing the reactions they make with each other. A small part of his brain is listening to what Tony's talking about and the last part is remembering Darcy and the way she smiles at him whenever she sees him, which is totally unfathomable to him.

And there she is, in jeans and a green sweater and carrying two thermoses. She smiles that smile, and it's almost like a physical punch to the chest, his heart jolts that way.

"Are you busy?" she says gently. "You seem alert today. I didn't have to even tap you on the shoulder."

"I can take a break," he answers, setting his test tubes down in their holders. "I'm not doing anything terribly important, just testing out a couple of ideas for an equation I've been thinking about."

She hands him a thermos. He opens it and sniffs before taking a sip.

"What is this? It's way good."

"Orange tea," she says, her lips curling up into a provoking smile. "From the little Indian shop you like."

He grins and drinks more tea. It smells good and it tastes even better, and there's just a little bit of sugar in, not enough to drown the natural flavor of the tea, but enough to sharpen it, to sweeten it, and just a splash of milk. Darcy knows how to make a good tea.

"So, I've resigned," she says matter-of-factly.

"You did mention that," says Bruce. "I didn't think you would have done it so soon, though."

"Yeah. I want to start a diner."

"A diner?"

"Mmhmm." She curls into the chair next to his, the chair that Tony always grins at when he sees, the one Jane hides a smile when she sees, the one that they all know is meant for when Darcy visits the lab. Bruce watches as she sits there, her legs drawn up the way she curls when they sit on the couch watching a movie, both hands wrapped around the thermos. She tucks an errant curl behind her ear and says, "I like making food. For large groups of people. It's fun."

"I think it's a great idea," says Bruce, and he does. "You love to cook, and you love to give back to others, and I don't see why you shouldn't be allowed to make a little profit out of that."

She stares at him for a moment, then smiles. He wonders if she'll taste like orange tea if he kisses her right now. Maybe. Tea tends to flavor the palate, but Darcy always drowns her tea in cream and sugar. That wouldn't be a bad taste, though. All sweetness. Just like Darcy.

She waves her fingers in his face, setting her thermos down, uncurling from her chair, standing up, and spinning it around to sit backwards on it, the way she usually does when she visits him. "Hey. Pay attention, Dr. Banner."

"I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head a little. "I was distracted." He glances back up at her, wondering how this woman who at times seems only a little more than a girl can hold so much of his heart and not be afraid of him.

Darcy blushes. "You've got pretty eyes, Doc," she says, and she spins around on the chair, but he grabs the chair and pulls it over to his chair and kisses her, because he can't really stand to stare at her anymore without kissing her. Her fingers curl in his hair and press on his scalp, and he holds her close, and she smells like oranges and tastes like sugar-

"Whoa, hey now, no fonduing in the labs," says Tony's voice behind them, and Darcy turns to glare at the other man, who is leaning in the doorway and smirking. "Take it back to the bedroom, like Schwarzenegger and L'Engle."

"That is a terrible joke," says Darcy, "and I'm surprised you've read Madeleine L'Engle, seeing how her books play with both science and religion and sometimes they do both and call it magic."

"Guess what," says Tony, "that's actually a very good joke, because all of the Asgard stuff is science and religion and magic all bundled into one, and that makes Foster suited to it. But they fondue in their rooms, thank God, because if they just went in a closet there wouldn't be anybody who couldn't hear them, because the closets aren't soundproof and because Jane wouldn't fit in there, not with Thor and his massive-"

"If you make another hammer joke I swear to God," says Darcy, and both Tony and Bruce laugh. Tony laughs outright, and Bruce gives that wry little chuckle he does when he's amused enough to laugh but not enough to really, actually laugh. Darcy's goal is always to get him to really, actually laugh. She told him that the other day, when he was in a bad mood. It worked.

"And we weren't doing- what did you call it?" said Bruce.

"Fonduing," said Tony. "It's a thing I picked up from Steve."

Both Bruce and Darcy choke a little. Bruce wonders how Steve would know such a good word to pick for that particular euphemism.

"It's not like he does any of that," says Tony, rolling his eyes. "That's just him being politically correct. Anyway, Lewis, I've got a location for your diner."

"What?" says Darcy. Bruce glances at her; her face is shocked and delighted.

"There's a little bakery, across the street from Stark Towers. It's going out of business, actually, because it took massive damage when the Chitauri came and it kind of sucked to begin with. But it's going up for sale, and you can do your diner right across from the Tower and all of the SHIELD agents who come here will like it because they can talk about things safely in there, and you can be close to home-"

Darcy leaps to her feet and hugs Tony around the middle. "Oh, my God, thank you, thank you, thank you," she says. "I was freaking out because I was like, oh God what if I have to move to Queens, that would suck, and this is perfect, I don't have to move, I can stay right here." She lets go of Tony and returns to Bruce. "Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, he found me a restaurant! Now all I have to do is raise funds to buy it-"

"I may have already taken care of that," mumbles Tony.

Darcy stares at him. "You bought my diner?"

"Yeah. Didn't want it to go to waste, you know? Prime spot of real estate, and they had about five buyers on the line so I just outbid them all and-"

"You're the best," says Darcy. "Like, the literal best. Except for Bruce. And cupcakes." Bruce feels a little bit of pride that he beats out cupcakes and Tony.

"You have to make the Bailey's cupcakes and sell them," says Tony.

"Hell, no, this will be a family establishment," retorts Darcy. "No Irish cream for the kiddos. I'll make you coffee cupcakes, though. And actual coffee."

"Can I make your coffee machines?"

"No, because then I won't understand how they work. Oh, my God, I have so much to do, people to hire, things to make, I've gotta go redo the decorating-" She kisses Bruce swiftly on the cheek, grabs her thermos, and races from the room. "Pepper! I need your help! Tony bought me a diner!"

Bruce chuckles as he watches her go. "Thank you," he says to Tony. "That was a good thing you did there."

Tony shrugs. "Well, she was resigning from being my PA. The least I could do was make sure she was doing okay with whatever she wanted to do. And it was kind of being my PA that got her kidnapped, so she totally deserves this. Whatever. You know."

"That doesn't make you any less good," says Bruce. "Thank you, again."

Tony smiles and shrugs it off, but Bruce can tell he's pleased. "See you later, Banner. I have something to work on with the Mark VI and stuff. You know."

"See you." Bruce watches him go, then returns to his chemistry project. Most of him concentrates on that, but a little bit of him is just deep-down glad that Darcy is getting a dream fulfilled. It makes him feel good, and the Other Guy is easier to keep happy and dormant when he feels good. And of course, it will make Darcy happy, and he loves it when Darcy is happy.


	2. Christmas at Stark Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between the movie and "after years of stormy sailing I have finally found the bay." Therefore: Thor is in Asgard, Coulson isn's back, and Steve hasn't formally met Meg. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. :D

Holidays at Stark Tower: Or, How Bruce Fell For Darcy And How Darcy Fell For Bruce

 

December 21, 2012, Stark Tower (Pepper)

 

"Let's have a New Years party," proposes Tony.

Pepper raises her eyebrows. "I'm fairly certain that everyone you want to invite already comes here every day. And Bruce already lives here."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess so. Still. We can invite... um... Hill. She's okay. And Sitwell. But not Fury. Nobody wants him around."

"Okay," says Pepper, and she makes a note to herself on the Starkpad to plan the party the next day, because they both know that if she doesn't plan it, Tony won't, and then on New Years he'll ask what happened to his party. It's a little bit trying, but it's also a part of Tony that she loves.

 

December 22, 2012, SHIELD headquarters (Steve)

 

"So."

"So?" says Steve, bemused.

"So, you should invite someone to the party," says Darcy.

She and Jane are both sitting on a treadmill, watching Steve work out. It's evident that both of them had come to the gym at SHIELD headquarters with the intention of working out- they were wearing shorts and T-shirts and sneakers and had their hair tied back- but for some reason they were just watching Steve. He wasn't really sure why.

"Who should I invite?" says Steve.

Darcy rolls her eyes. "A girl, Steve. Invite a girl to the party. As a date."

"It's not even Christmas yet," argues Steve. "And I don't- I don't know any girls."

"Well, I'll solve this," says Jane. "You can ask me."

Both Steve and Darcy blink.

"What?" says Darcy.

"My boyfriend is in Asgard and will be, for God knows how long, so I am dateless, with no possibility of getting a date, so we can go as friends," says Jane.

Darcy nods slowly. "It's a sound idea. Go ahead and ask her, Cap."

"Um, okay," says Steve. "Er- Miss Foster-"

"Oh, God, call me Jane," says Jane.

"Er, Jane." Jane is a comfortable, familiar name. One of the USO girls had been named Jane. "Um, do you want to go to Tony's New Year party as friends?"

"Absolutely," says Jane. She turns to Darcy. "Now  _you_  have to find a date."

Steve thinks for a moment. "I think Agent Sitwell is invited," he offers.

"Who is this Agent Sitwell? And I'm going to partly be a Tony Chaperone-y, so I can't really have a date. Pepper is great, but she can handle only so much drunk Tony before she goes crazy."

"That's very kind of you," says Steve.

"Nah. I'm getting paid to do it, or I'd tell him to haul his own drunk ass back to bed." Darcy rolls her eyes. "I'm going to go and drink a few and maybe stare at some of the attractive people who will undoubtedly be there. Is this Agent Sitwell good-looking?"

"Um- I don't-" flounders Steve, not really sure what to say.

"Never mind, you're a dude, you can't answer that properly." Darcy tips him a wink. "Jane, let's be real here, neither of us are going to be exercising today, not with all the eye candy in the room. Let's go back to our rooms and change clothes."

Jane nods agreement, waves to Steve, and the two girls leave Steve to his punching bags. He wonders what "eye candy" means, and makes a note to ask Natasha later. She won't laugh at him, and she won't tease him for days on end afterwards, either.

 

December 22, 2012, Stark Tower (Bruce)

 

Bruce is in the labs, glancing at the interfaces on one of Tony's 3D screens and flicking images from left to right with his fingertips. Tony is working, too, mostly absorbed with tinkering around with something in U's head, if you could call it that. Bruce is partially thinking about his own work but he is also thinking, strangely enough, about the girl who just walked in, told JARVIS to turn down the music (which had been giving Bruce a headache anyway), handed Tony a Starkpad (nobody handed Tony things but Pepper), and yelled at Tony for a minute before snatching the Starkpad and stomping out of the room.

"Tony?" he says, almost absently. Tony is totally absorbed in what he's doing, and doesn't hear. He tries again. "Tony."

Tony glances up, his gaze unfocused. "Yeah?" he says vaguely.

"Who was that girl who just came in?" He tries not to look at Tony, keeps his voice nonchalant. It works, because Tony only says absently, "Oh, that's Lewis, my PA. She's really freakin' bossy," and returns to tinkering with U's innards.

Lewis. Lewis. He knows he's heard the name somewhere before, just like he knows he's seen her face in connection with the name before. He closes his eyes and thinks.

Lewis... oh, Lewis and... Foster. Jane Foster had just moved half her labs into the Tower, from where she'd been working before, in Tromso. And Lewis had been her assistant in Puente Antiguo, when Thor had made his first appearance. That was it. Sometimes Dr. Foster didn't come to the labs every day, but he knew that she was rooming with someone in Manhattan. It was probably Lewis, now that he thought about it.

Around lunchtime, Lewis comes in with three sandwiches. She waves one under Tony's nose until he grabs it and begins eating, and then she comes over to Bruce and offers him one. He sniffs, and the smells of oregano and tomato meet his nose. He takes one. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she answers, and the slight look of surprise on her face makes him want to punch Tony a little bit, because she clearly isn't used to any gratitude from him. She picks up the third sandwich, herself, and sits down on a swivel chair at an empty table and begins to eat.

"So, um, Miss Lewis, right?" he says, trying to be conversational.

"Yeah," she answers. "Call me Darcy. I don't go in for formalities much. You're Dr. Banner, right?"

"Bruce," he corrects her, automatically.

Bruce has a great deal of control and understanding of his own mind- he has to, to keep the Other Guy in check- and he knows that he doesn't let just anybody call him Bruce. Tony and Pepper are given that privilege, as is Steve. Clint and Natasha aren't around as often, but when they are they usually give him the full title. SHIELD gives him the full title, too, unless they're talking about the Other Guy, in which case he's The Hulk or just Hulk. Bruce hates that name, a little bit. He knows that the Other Guy uses it as a name, which is why he always refers to the Other Guy as the Other Guy. He knows it's a bad idea to annoy the Other Guy- but he likes to have this little degree of control over him, the power to name him as he chooses.

But he knows that only about three people in the world call him Bruce- four if you count Betty, and she's not in his life anymore, so she doesn't count- so he's wondering, a little bit, why he tells this girl he barely knows to call him Bruce. Not even JARVIS calls him Bruce.

"Bruce," she repeats. "Cool." And then she smiles, and with a little sinking in his gut, he knows why he's letting her call him Bruce.

The Other Guys stirs in interest in the back of his brain. This doesn't happen all too often, with women. The Other Guy knows two women: Betty and Natasha. He's never met Betty in self-triggered combat situations, though, so she isn't part of his stronger memories of being the Other Guy, few though those memories are. But the Other Guy is silent, for which he is grateful. Just watching this girl. Darcy.

"So, what kind of science-y things do you do?" she asks him.

"Well," he says, "I'm an expert in the field of gamma radiation. I work with nuclear physics, mostly. Tony's been very nice about letting me play with some of his equipment."

"I'd want to play with it too," she agrees, looking around at the clean glass and chrome of the lab. "It's all shiny and pretty."

He smiles. "That, too," he says.

"What else do you do?"

 _What do you want me to say? That I turn into a giant monster whenever someone upsets me? That I end up destroying New York more than I mean to?_  He doesn't say any of those things. Instead, he half-smiles a little bit and says, "Well, I have a PhD in horribleness."

He doesn't expect her to get the reference- it's pretty obscure, and it's really incredibly nerdy of him to know about these things, anyway- but her jaw drops open, and she sits up straight and stares at him, a huge grin growing on her face, and she points at him and mouths a few soundless words before saying, "You are officially the most awesome person in this entire tower. Oh. My. God."

"It's, um, kind of, um, I know," says Bruce, and he has no idea what his brain was doing because the way she was looking at him was really distracting and his tongue was moving faster than his brain was going.

"Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog is the best thing ever!" she says. "Oh, my God. How did you find it?"

"I was looking for something on Amazon, and it popped up in the recommendations," answers Bruce. "I was curious, so I watched it. And then I bought it for eight ninety-nine on Amazon."

"It's just- oh, my God, I can't even." She jumps out of her chair and walks toward him, and Bruce has no idea what's going on, oh God, help, what- and then she wraps her arms around him and hugs him. Tightly. And for a long time.

"You are so coooooool," she says into his ear, dragging out the "cool." "The coolest."

"Um, I, uh-" Nobody's touched him since Betty. He's not really sure what to do. But it's kind of nice. A little bit. More than a little bit. Luckily, she pulls away before Tony says anything- in fact, Tony's still totally focused on fiddling with U's wiring, which in and of itself is a miracle.

"Are you okay?" she says, raising one eyebrow.

 _No, not when you do that, oh God help me, I'm going to hell, she's just a kid._  "Um, I kind of have issues with people touching me."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," she says, panic spreading over her face. "I'm just so impulsive, sometimes I overstep boundaries- oh, my God, I am so sorry."

"It's okay," he says. "I don't expect people to know about it. I, um, haven't hugged anyone in a while. It was, um, nice."  _Stop stuttering, Banner, you're being a complete ass, not to mention a libidinous old man._

She frowns at him. He doesn't like that, for some reason.  _You know perfectly well what reason, dumbass._  "How long's it been?"

"Um, I, um-" He clears his throat. "Something like five or six years. I've lost track."

Her eyes widen, and she says, "That's inhumane!"

"Well- I guess, maybe- well-"  _I'm not exactly human. I could hurt you. Run away and don't come back, if you know what's good for you._

But he doesn't want her to. He knows that, and the part of him that's screaming for him to  _stop flirting, this is a perfectly nice girl who you don't need to screw up with all your shit_ \- knows that as well.

"Can I hug you again?" she asks.

Well, he wasn't gonna say  _no_. The Other Guy is okay with hugging, and frankly, so is Bruce.

 

December 23, 2012, SHIELD headquarters (Clint)

 

Clint is in the vents. Natasha is on a mission, and he's bored without somebody to talk to. Nobody really wants to talk to him, anyway- they all still think he's got issues, with the whole Loki thing. And he does, but they only ever present themselves at night. Or when he's startled.

So he's taken to the vents. And he's decided that because he knows the SHIELD vents way, way too well, he's going to stay in them for just a little bit longer, and then he'll go to the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building  or the Oscorp Tower and figure out those vents. And so on and so forth, until he knows the ventilation system of every important building in New York City.

It's a dumb idea, but Natasha isn't there to stop him. Ha. So there.

But when he finally drops down from the vents- right in front of a very young, very new female agent of course, just to mess with her- he doesn't even get as far as the door before a voice says flatly, "Barton."

He turns. It's Hill. She's one of the few people at SHIELD who don't treat him as though he had a disease these days. Which is ironic, because he nearly killed her. Hell, he  _should_  have killed her. Best marksman in the world, sure, he could hit a target as slow-moving as a human with ease. But he didn't.

Sometimes he wonders if he was crazy  _before_  Loki got to him.

"Barton, pay attention when I'm talking," says Hill irritably.

That snaps him back into focus. "Sorry."

"Stark wants to take a look at your bow," she says. "He's got some ideas about your bow and some of the tech in the arrows."

Clint tries not to sigh- it would be disrespectful. Instead he says, "Yes, Agent Hill," very quietly.

She eyes him for a moment, then says, "Self-pity's bad for you, you know. Report to Stark Tower at 1300. Mention you're from SHIELD and they should send you right in."

"Yes, Agent Hill."

She turns and stalks away. Clint watches her go, rolls his eyes and sighs after the free afternoon he could have spent figuring out how to break into the ventilation system of the Empire State Building, then decides that Stark Tower is just as good a place to start with the ventilation systems. And he's fairly sure that he doesn't have any paperwork to do- Coul-  _Sitwell_ , dammit,  _Sitwell_ doesn't make him do a whole lot of paperwork these days, so basically Hill's given him an hour and a half of free time before he has to be at Stark Tower.

"Lunch is on me," he mumbles grimly, smiling to himself.

 

December 23, 2012, Stark Tower (Darcy)

 

Darcy is chilling in her office. Her predecessor, Natalie somebody, left an extremely good filing system, almost better than the one she used when she was working for Jane. Darcy adopted it, making a few tweaks. She doesn't have much to do today. She just has to bring lunch down to Tony (and Bruce) and he also has a guest today. Darcy was in California during the Manhattan Invasion, as the TV anchors liked to call it, but she had seen the footage, and she has access to the information that Tony hacks out of SHIELD when he's bored. She knows who Clint Barton is, and she knows that Tony's been playing with bows and arrows a lot more than is healthy for him or her or Bruce or the robots or anybody, really. Tony and bows and arrows- just a bad combination all around.

So she goes up to the kitchen and makes three chicken wraps all by herself. She knows that the healthy factor will appeal to Bruce, and the one-hand-free option will appeal to Tony. The last isn't for her this time, but for Clint Barton, who apparently has a fondness for things that come in tortillas. (Those SHIELD files are incredibly thorough.) She shreds the chicken into pieces, then runs a block of Provolone through the food processor- all of the kitchen equipment at Stark Tower is pretty and it works well and she would die for a personal kitchen like this- and dices tomatoes and shreds lettuce and chops onions and green peppers and adds a little ranch dressing. She would have asked what each of them wanted on their wraps, but she knows that Tony and Bruce won't care, and SHIELD agents can't be too picky about what they eat. She also makes two thermoses of coffee and one of tea. The tea is for Bruce, because she knows he likes it better than coffee.

The wraps and thermoses are waiting in the kitchenette where she made them, which is just around the corner from her office. She's waiting for the receptionist to tell her that Clint Barton is here, so she can go down and get him.

The phone on her desk beeps. "Ms. Lewis?"

Ooh, she likes the sound of that. "Hey, Kate, what's up?"

"There's an Agent Barton from SHIELD here to see Mr. Stark."

"All righty, I'll be right down to get him."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

Darcy gets to her feet, picks her high heels up from where they're sitting on the desk, and walks down the hall to the elevator.

"Hey, JARVIS. Ground floor, please."

"Of course, Ms. Lewis."

"I told you, call me Darcy," she laughs. It gives her a sense of satisfaction, to know that she can push the buttons of an AI by deliberately making him uncomfortable.

"Of course, Darcy." An AI would never say "um," but the hesitation is apparent, and Darcy's evil side giggles a little bit internally.

The elevator begins to slow. Darcy drops her shoes and slides her feet into them, then walks a few steps around the elevator before it comes to a stop and the doors slide open.

A man who is less tall than he is stocky is waiting, leaning on the front desk. Kate, the front receptionist, looks both charmed and intimidated, and Darcy can see why. Clint Barton is the kind of attractive that you don't want to get involved with unless you're looking for trouble- muscled, charming, a little roguish. Definitely not Darcy's type. She smiles as she walks toward him.

"Mr. Barton?" she says, extending her hand. "Darcy Lewis, Tony Stark's personal assistant."

She waits for the line most men give when she says that, something like "oh, I  _bet_  you are," or some reference to how she could probably stack the paperwork on her chest, but Clint Barton just nods, winks at Kate, and follows her back to the elevator. He's carrying two black plastic suitcases.

"JARVIS, the labs, please," says Darcy.

"Of course, Ms. Lewis." The disembodied voice makes Barton jump. "Good afternoon, Mr. Barton."

"Uh, good afternoon," says Barton, after a moment.

"JARVIS is Mr. Stark's AI," says Darcy. "He more or less runs Stark Tower." She's sure that it isn't necessary to explain this, but she likes to make sure everyone knows what's going on.

They get off at the floor of R and D where Tony and Bruce and sometimes Jane work, but Darcy knows that Jane's at the SHIELD labs today. She leads Barton into the lab and walks straight up to Tony, who's working on the Mark IX today. She taps him on the shoulder. She knows Bruce is looking at her, out of the corner of her eye, but she's on the job right now.

"Mr. Stark," she says impatiently. "Tony. Tony. Toooooony. Oh, my God. TONY!"

He jumps about a foot, then looks at her reproachfully. "I was listening. Really."

"Agent Barton of SHIELD is here," she says. He stares at her, then past her at Clint. "You've been working on tech for his weapons, remember?"

"Oh, right. Right.  _Right_ ," says Tony. "Thanks, Darce, you're a gem." He grins widely at her, and Darcy is reminded that sometimes, on the rare occasions when Tony Stark is not an asshole, he is one of the nicest people in the world.

Barton walks forwards and Tony greets him with jokes about Lord of the Rings and Skyrim and every fictional character that ever shot a bow. Darcy understands all of the jokes, of course, but she doesn't make a reaction, she just heads back towards the elevators, so she can go get their lunch.

When she returns, Bruce has abandoned his work and is watching Tony and Clint playing with the bow and arrows. They're aiming for the far wall, which is reinforced with steel. Darcy watches as they blow targets up with exploding arrows, and then Tony shows Clint something that he says should make the arrows return to the quiver. Clint looks intrigued, and presses the button.

All of the arrows come whirling back towards Clint and Tony, but they're pointed the wrong way, tips racing towards them. Clint shoves Tony out of the way just in time, and that movement sends all of the arrows haywire. Darcy is standing there, holding the wraps and thermoses, and a hand yanks her towards the shelter of some lab tables. It's Bruce. They hide until they can't hear anything moving, and then they get up and look around. It's as though a war had happened; there's shattered glass, holes in the walls, broken arrows everywhere.

"Well, practice makes perfect," says Tony lightly, brushing himself off. Clint looks torn between the desire to laugh and complete annoyance at what looks like total nonchalance from Tony. Darcy knows that it's more than just nonchalance, though- beyond that, she finds it extremely hard to read Tony Stark.

"I brought lunch," she says, into the silence.

"Oh. Thanks, Lewis," says Tony. She hands him a wrap and a thermos of coffee, and she hands Clint a wrap and a thermos of coffee, and then she hands Bruce the last wrap and the thermos of tea. Then she turns to go.

"Aren't you going to stay?"

She turns and smiles at Bruce. "Not today, Bruce, I've got things to do." She hesitates at the door, then adds, "Merry Christmas." Her holiday starts tomorrow, and she gets until the twenty-seventh off. She has so much to do between now and the end of the day, though. She likes Pepper a lot, and she doesn't want to have to leave a ton of work for her to do.

At four-thirty she has everything finished up, and she grabs the pager off the desk and throws it into her purse. If they need her at the tower, Pepper can page her, and she'll go in. Otherwise, she's ready for Christmas. It will be her first Christmas away from home, but she doesn't have enough time to go home this year. Maybe next year.

Just as she gets to the ground floor, she's stopped by a beep from her pager. She digs it out of her purse and sees that it's from Pepper.  _So sorry- have you left yet?? If you haven't, can you come up really quick? I have one thing I need you to sign before you go for your holiday! -Pepper_

Darcy sighs. "So much for vacation." She gets back into the elevator. JARVIS takes her up to the ground floor of Tony and Pepper's personal floor. Pepper, bless her soul, is waiting right there with the paperwork on hand. Darcy looks it over, signs it in Tony's name- that's what Pepper means, by her signing things. Tony never does paperwork. Half of Darcy's job involves forging Tony Stark's signature onto things. Her first day of practice she was assigned to spend four hours practicing his signature so that she could sign for things like food deliveries, the use of credit cards, and paperwork for SHIELD.

Finally, she gets back down to the ground floor and her hand is on the door when someone yells, "Darcy!"

She turns, surprised. It's Bruce. He's panting, and holding a hastily wrapped package.

"Sorry," he gasps. "I just- sorry-" He breathes deeply.

"It's okay," says Darcy. "It's only four fifty, my bus doesn't come until five-oh-three. I've got time."

"Thank you," he says, straightening up. "I'm sorry, I just- Merry Christmas." He holds out the package.

"Bruce- I didn't- um, thank you," says Darcy, totally nonplussed.

"You can open it if you want," says Bruce, shyly. "I mean, I know you didn't get me anything, but you bring me lunch every day when you don't have to, so you don't have to get me anything. Really. And, um, thank you. For all the lunch. And when you bring me tea. The tea is really good."

He's stammering, like he does when he's nervous. Darcy smiles at him and opens the package. It's wrapped in butcher paper- she knows there's a roll of it in the labs- and tied with what appears to be dental floss, possibly fishing line.

The paper falls away, and what she's holding in her hands takes her breath away. It's red and orange and yellow and pink and purple, the colors fading into one another, the silk smooth over her hands. A sunset, made of silk.

"You, um, wear them,um, a lot," says Bruce, gesturing around his throat. "Scarves, I mean. And I know a little place over in Queens, you can get a real pashmini silk from India for five dollars. It's not much."

"Bruce, this is beautiful," says Darcy. It's the kind of gift she hasn't had in years. Former boyfriends tended to think she liked jewelry and shoes. She does, but she loves scarves, loves the feel of them in her fingers, around her neck. And silk is the best kind of scarf. "And this is- this is real silk. Are you absolutely sure this didn't cost you more-"

"I used to live in India," says Bruce. "And it's very cheap there, handmade silk, and the lady who sells them, she told me her daughter made it. Only five dollars, I promise you."

 _It's rude to argue over gifts_ , Darcy reminds herself. "Thank you, Bruce."

He smiles again. "Merry Christmas, Darcy."

"Merry Christmas, Bruce." She glances up and makes eye contact with him, because making eye contact is polite, and she's struck by the sheer force of-  _something_ , in those eyes. Dark eyes.

 _Stop it,_  Darcy tells herself. She smiles, tears her eyes away from his, waves awkwardly, and leaves.

On the bus ride home she feels like crying, but she doesn't. Instead, she puts the scarf on, wraps it around her neck. It's a splash of color against her black coat and dark hair, and she loves it. Bright, warm colors.

 

December 28, 2012, SHIELD headquarters (Clint)

 

Clint is bored, sitting at his desk. Nat's back, but she's actually busy with something today. He gets into the security database and watches as people log in and out, as people come and go and are spotted on the cameras.

Then he sees  _Darcy Lewis- errand for Stark Industries_  pop up, and he's abruptly reminded of the way that Banner was staring at her, with blatant puppy-dog eyes, as though he just wanted to be petted. His heart goes out to the man.

And then he remembers that Stark is throwing a New Year's bash. It surfaces vaguely in the corner of his mind that he devotes to petty, unimportant things, like his wardrobe, and whatever Stark was up to these days. Lewis will definitely be there. The question is, will Banner?

He pulls out his phone and texts Nat.  _You up for some holiday shenanigans?_

Her answer came back surprisingly fast, as all of Nat's texts did.  _Depends on the type of shenanigans you mean._

He grins as he replies,  _Matchmaking._

_Banner and Lewis?_

_Damn, Romanoff, it's like you're psychic or something._

_Not psychic, merely observant. She has my old job. Pepper called me in a few days after Manhattan to train her on my filing system, but she already had it mastered, and she can forge Stark's signature masterfully. I thought it would be a good idea to keep an eye on her. And I always keep an eye on Banner._

_Wow._

_Shut up, Barton. He gave her a scarf for Christmas. It's not that difficult to put together._

_She might disagree with you there._

_If you thought so, would you have suggested this in the first place?_

_I guess not._

_Then there you are._

 

December 28th, 2012, Stark Tower (Bruce)

 

Bruce is tired. He didn't actually go to bed the night before. He was busy on an experiment. He did notice that Tony left for a while, but then suddenly he was back, and the sun was rising over Manhattan. He knows he needs to sleep, but he really wants to finish this experiment, so he sits down at his desk and takes a catnap.

When he wakes up, Darcy is walking into the lab. Her eyes are really blue this morning, and- his breathing stutters- she is wearing the scarf he gave her.

And she's looking at him, so he smiles, because he likes it when she looks at him- but there's something different. It's almost as though she's trying to hide something from him. It's a warm smile, a gentle one- it's almost too good of a thought to hope that it's a caring one- but there is something a little closed about it, something he can't quite read.

And instantly he feels guilty. He probably made her uncomfortable, libidinous old man that he was, and she was young and pretty and smart and she knew how to handle Tony without being tactless and she was just so damn nice and friendly and kind.

"Are you okay?" she says suddenly.

"Me? Oh, I'm- I'm fine," he says. But inside, where his gut is, it's like a twisting hole of anger at himself.  _How dare you hurt this girl, Banner. She was just fine, and then you come and you have your baggage and your shit and you just want other people to take some of it away from you. No. Carry it yourself. Man up._

"Um, here." She handed him something wrapped in foil. "It's date nut cookies, and I put green and red candied cherries on them. You know, for Christmas. I didn't, um, get you anything, and I wanted to say thank you, for the scarf."

Bruce smiles gratefully up at her. "Thank you, Darcy. How was your Christmas?"

"A little lonely," she admitted. "Jane flew home for a couple of days. Her family only lives in Ohio, so it took like, maybe an hour to fly there from here. I couldn't go home, I'm from California, and it's, um, kind of far away..." she trails off, looking lost, but then she shakes her head, as though to clear it, and says brightly, "Anyway, I had a three-day Supernatural marathon and opened my presents. My parents sent me a hundred bucks, but I think your scarf definitely wins over Aunt Molly's regifted fruitcake. Why anybody would send me a fruitcake, I don't know. I can make a way better fruitcake than anything anybody gives me."

"I guess you like to cook and bake a lot, then," says Bruce, not really knowing what else to say.

That guarded look appears in her eyes ever so briefly. "Yeah. It's stress relief, but I also like making things for people. I mean, I probably made like, three hundred of those cookies over my vacation. You know when Thor came to New Mexico that was like the best three days of my life?"

It's an abrupt change of topic. He blinks. "I- um- what?"

"I got to make, like fifty batches of cookies and brownies, and he ate all of it. ALL of it! And then he discovered our Pop-Tarts and he ate all of those, too. Dude loves Pop-Tarts. I think they're kind of gross, compared to, for example, a raspberry Danish, but they're all Jane ever ate in New Mexico, and then Thor liked them, too."

He likes to listen to her talk. She has a way of speaking, even with that guarded look in her eyes, that makes him want to pay attention to all the little things she does with her hands when she's talking. Every twist in her expression, every new face made for a different emotion, he wants to memorize all of them, so that he knows exactly what she's feeling.

Oh, God. He's doomed.

 

December 29, 2012, Stark Tower (Clint)

 

Clint is going back to the Tower again today. This time, Natasha is going with him. Stark has decided that the best way for them to test weapons at the Tower is to do it in the weapons range. Clint didn't even know that Stark  _had_  a weapons range.

"It's better than SHIELD's," said Nat, when he asked her. And that was all she really had to say about it.

They're both keeping an eye on Lewis and Banner though- Nat wants to see where it will go on its own, but Clint has the idea that Lewis needs a little bit of a push. But he's not going to do it, and he knows Nat won't. He decides that he's going to talk to Banner, tell him to go to Stark's New Years bash and grow a pair.

He seeks Banner out in the lab. He's alone there, because Lewis is downstairs assisting Tony in working with Nat's weapons training. He knocks- don't anger Banner by being rude, after all. Banner looks up.

"Come in," he says, surprise on his face. "I think Tony's downstairs."

Poor guy, that he assumes nobody ever wants to see him. "I wanted to talk to you, actually," he says lightly. "Are you planning on going to Stark's thingy? On New Years Eve?"

"No," says Bruce, chuckling dryly. "I'm, uh, somewhat asocial."

"Well," says Clint carefully, "and this is just a hint, take it or leave it, I'm pretty sure Lewis is gonna be there."

Banner's face doesn't even register surprise. Instead, it pulls itself in, resigned, and then he sighs. "Is it really that obvious?" he says softly, head hanging a little.

"No," says Clint. "But you have to remember that I'm trained to see things. You gave her a pretty scarf for Christmas, right? That's not a gift from a friend at the office. That's the gift of a close friend, one who knows and cares about who they're giving it to." He grins at Banner. "She's pretty. I don't blame you at all."

"She's absolutely gorgeous," agrees Banner, his face wry. "But she is also some fifteen years younger than I am. I'm in my late thirties, Barton. I'm beginning to approach the other side of the hill. Darcy is young and vibrant and beautiful, and she deserves someone who can match that vivacity. I cannot. And that doesn't even begin to cover the danger she will be in if she is with me- what I could do to her, if I were to lose control with her."

And he sounds so broken- so utterly defeated- that Clint's heart goes out to the guy even more than it already had been. He knows what it's like to be with a younger woman. Nat's only twenty-six, and he's nearly thirty-five. Age gap is something you can't ignore. And then the whole Hulk thing- that's a load of shit he can't even begin to imagine. He pictures Darcy, running and screaming from the Hulk, and then he remembers that Nat ran from the Hulk, and survived. He should drop a hint to Nat to give Darcy some combat and endurance training. Just in case.

"That really sucks," he says, and Banner nods a little bit. "But how do you know she doesn't like older guys? If you ask, you think she's not gonna tell you?"

Banner looks confused. "I- er-"

"Ask her questions," says Clint. "Don't put her on the rack or anything- that's my job, and Nat's job, to question people. But asking her about herself isn't gonna hurt anything. And she'll appreciate that you're nice enough to ask her what she prefers. The scarf was a nice touch."

"I don't want to risk hurting her," murmurs Banner.

"Bruce," says Clint, and he's being serious now, "if she's willing to come in here and make you sandwiches and cookies and talk to you even when she could be doing stuff that will get her promoted because she's good at getting things done quickly and accurately, then she's already accepted the fact that if you lose your temper, you are a dangerous man to be around. A lot of people avoid you, because they're scared of you. Darcy isn't scared of you. She might be scared of the Hulk, yeah. Everybody's scared of the Hulk, and with good reason. But she's not scared of you, the same way Stark isn't scared of you. She's not trying to befriend the Hulk, though I'm pretty sure she wouldn't say no to being friends with him. She's trying to befriend you."

Banner stares at him, wide-eyed and speechless. Clint nods to him and begins walking to the door. "Go to that party, Banner. She'll be wearing a pretty dress, and she'll probably have a couple of drinks. Loosen up. And maybe try being next to her when the clock strikes midnight. You might get a kiss out of it or something."

And with that he leaves. He's not entirely sure that he's not going to be smashed into a pulp on his way out, but he isn't. And when he tells Nat what he did, she's silent for a moment, and then she says, "You could take some of your own advice, you know," and he knows he's done the right thing, because he knows what it's like to be the monster and be pursuing a girl.

 

December 30, 2012, Jane and Darcy's apartment (Darcy)

 

"What are we supposed to wear to Stark's shindig?" Darcy calls from her room.

Jane doesn't answer. She's absorbed in a book. Darcy stomps out to the kitchen, grabs a cookie, and throws it into Jane's book. Jane blinks and looks up. "What?"

"What are we supposed to wear to Stark's shindig?" repeats Darcy.

"Oh. Um, I don't know," says Jane absently. "I'm just going to wear my blue dress. It should work."

"You lucked out with that dress, you can wear it to anything and it's still formal." Darcy returns to her room and stares at her wardrobe.

"Well, what choices do you have?" asks Jane, closing her book and getting up. "You don't have a whole lot to pick from."

"It's basically the red dress or the black dress," says Darcy. "I kind of want to wear the black one, because then I can wear my new scarf with it."

"You have a new scarf?" says Jane.

Darcy points to the scarf, at where she's folded it and laid it carefully on the dresser. "Christmas present from Bruce." She rummages through her clothes one more time. "I hate being poor."

"We're not nearly as poor as we were in Puente Antiguo," says Jane.

"True," agrees Darcy. "But the cost of living is way higher here. We're only a little richer than we were there. But I get to eat three meals a day at Stark Tower, so I manage."

"Me, too," says Jane. "Really, we only keep snacks here. Bread and butter."

"Popcorn and ice cream is more like it," snorts Darcy.

"Bruce gave you this scarf, you said?"

"Yeah."

"This is real Indian silk."

"He mentioned it. He said he knows a place where he can get it for five bucks."

"He kind of looks like he could be Indian," muses Jane.

"He kind of does. He certainly knows his scarves."

"Or, he knows you," says Jane.

Then that nagging suspicion that she's been having ever since then might be right, after all. She hopes to God it is. "Look at the dresses, Jane. Which one do I wear?"

Jane stares the two dresses. Darcy holds one up, then the other.

But then Jane pokes past her. "What's this one in the plastic cover?"

"Oh, that's something I bought on my first paycheck from Stark Industries and am now slightly ashamed of, because it had been a while before I'd been shopping and I went crazy and forgot I had boobs and bought the first pretty thing I saw."

Jane raises one eyebrow.

Darcy sighs, grabs the plastic bag, and unzips it. The dress inside is a warm shade of green. It's knee length, with a flowing skirt, and it has half sleeves and a scoop neck. She liked it a lot at the store, but she didn't try it on before she left and then when she got home, she tried it on and her chest was popping out of it no matter what she did.

"You should totally wear that," says Jane. "Put it on."

Darcy sighs again. "I told you, it doesn't fit. I have to take it back."

" _Put it on,_ " insists Jane.

Darcy puts on the dress again. Jane studies her critically. "If you have a wrap or a scarf of some kind, then the cleavage issue can be covered up. Or a cardigan. Cardigans are like, God's gift to women."

"Has Thor given you a lot of cardigans, then?"

"Ha, ha, you're hilarious." Jane rolls her eyes. "Seriously. A cardigan, or a scarf, or both. You'll look great."

"Okay," Darcy relents, and takes the dress off. She hangs it up, to air it out before she has to take it to work the next day. She has to go to the Tower and help set up starting at one and she has to stay until the party is over, which is nice because she gets to sleep in later than usual, but it will suck in the wee hours of the morning. She might bring lunch with her. Maybe she can bring Bruce some lunch, too. She grabs her black cardigan from the closet, then hesitates, then grabs Bruce's scarf and hangs it with the dress and the cardigan. She'll be a walking rainbow, but she really wants to wear the scarf. It's pretty. And it looks nice, with the dress.

And maybe Bruce will be there. He'll definitely be in the labs, working. And she's pretty sure he lives at Stark Tower. So if he's not going, she can try and persuade him to go. She would really like him to go. It will keep her from getting bored out of her wits.

 

December 31, 2012, Stark Tower (Bruce)

 

Bruce is in the labs. He knows that it's New Year's Eve and nobody expects him to be working, but he likes to work, and it keeps him out of the way of Tony and Pepper setting up for Tony's party. Unfortunately, it also means he's not going to see Darcy until the party.

And then the door bursts open at about twelve and in walks Darcy. She's not wearing her conventional office clothes. Instead she has jeans and a purple sweater on. She's carrying a large paper bag.

There's nobody else in the lab. It's just the two of them. She grins brightly at him and sets the paper bag down on a table. "I bought lunch," she announces. "Chinese takeout. And none of that Panda Express stuff, either. Real Chinese food."

"You didn't have to," says Bruce.

"You could just say thank you."

He flushes. "I'm sorry. Thank you."

"It's okay," she says, smiling at him. "I know you're not used to letting yourself have anything nice in life."

"Except for tea," he says. "I indulge in tea."

"You do buy really expensive tea for yourself. I figured that I'm not going to spend any time with you today, because I'm gonna be really busy until about seven thirty, and then I'm going to be trading the position of Tony Chaperone-y with Pepper. So I decided, I'm gonna have lunch with my favorite scientist."

Bruce wills himself not to blush again. "Your favorite? What about Dr. Foster?"

"She's my best friend," says Darcy, grinning. "You're my favorite scientist, and probably my second best friend. That's completely different."

He smiles back at her.

She reaches for the paper bag and unloads it. "Rice, of course. I got brown rice and white rice. And we have some fried chicken- at least, I think it's fried chicken. The lady behind the counter had a really thick accent, I could barely understand her. And I don't speak Mandarin, though I know enough to read a little of it. And I think this is plain ol' beef and broccoli, and this is moo shoo chicken, and here, for the refined doctor who loves him some hot liquids, is a canister of egg drop soup." She sets it down in front of him.

"I do like egg drop soup." He's touched that she remembers that.

She grins and hands him a pair of wooden chopsticks. "I got them for you. I can't use chopsticks. I'm very bad at it. I would ask you to teach me, but I don't have the time at the moment, because I have to load up on all of this delicious food in the next half hour.

Bruce digs a few plastic spoons and a fork out of the junk drawer for the soup and for Darcy to use, and they eat.

"When did you learn to read Mandarin?" he asks her.

"I took a semester in college." She laughs. "I was terrible at it. I figured that I was going to major in political science and then go to China and do humanitarian aid and then come back and stand on my soapbox about how the Chinese need help and blah blah blah. All I remembered from Chinese 101 were some of the food words, because I wrote them down and memorized them so that I could get food no matter where I was. Where did you learn to use chopsticks so well?"

"I- um, India," he says. "Usually you can eat Indian food with a fork and knife, that's fine, but I picked it up a few months before SHIELD called me in about Manhattan and Loki and all that."

"Yeah." A shadow shows on her face. "I remember that. " He thinks she's talking about Manhattan, but then she continues, "You went to India to get away from SHIELD, right? And then it turns out you never really did get away, because they were keeping track of you the whole time." She shook her head. "That really sucks, Doc. I'm sorry."

"Um- well, it's okay," he says. "It turns out they did me a couple of favors, keeping an eye on me. They kept some not-so-neutral third parties off my tail, and even though I didn't want to come back, I think it was,  um, for the best that I did."

"It was," she agreed. "You came back, and you helped save New York, and you saved Tony, and you've been able to work on sciency things here since then that I know are good for the world. And-" She hesitates, then says quickly, as though daring herself to speak, "-and I got to meet you, and that kinda means a lot to me."

It's very quiet there, in the labs. He wants to kiss her, suddenly. It's the first time he's seriously thought about it. It's crossed his mind, of course. Darcy has the kind of mouth that's made for kissing, and iwith her chatter and the way she smiles and laughs it's always moving, always visible, always there for him.

He clenches his fists under the table and breathes deeply inwards through his nose. Control is key.

"Well, I gotta go," she says, still quickly, and she gets up and goes. She turns at the door, smiles at him, and then she hurries away.

 

December 31, 2012, Stark Tower (Darcy)

 

Her eyes sting as she goes into the bathroom. Darcy grabs the edges of the counter and closes her eyes, taking off her glasses and scrubbing at them even though she knows that's not good for her eyes.

She knew it was getting bad. She knew she shouldn't have let herself fall for Bruce. Stupid. Stupid of her, to let herself think that just maybe, this handsome, distinguished older man might see some appeal in an immature, childlike idiot like her. Stupid.

And now her mouth does all the thinking evidently, because there she goes and, you know, pretty much straight up tells him that she loves him,  _stupid_ , and then he doesn't even say anything, probably because he's so mortified that this little girl is so obsessed with him! God. She is such an idiot. Such an  _idiot_.

"Stupid," she whispers to herself.

She takes a deep breath, keeps her eyes closed, puts her glasses back on, turns, and shrieks, taking a step backwards when she sees Natasha Romanoff standing behind her.

"Holy crap on a cracker! You don't make any sound when you move, do you?" says Darcy, breathing heavily.

"I'm not paid to be noisy," says Agent Romanoff. She's looking at Darcy, her head tilted a little, curious blue eyes narrowed but not hostile. "You're wrong, you know. You're not stupid."

"What do you know about it?" grumbles Darcy.

"Dr. Banner cares for you a great deal," says the other woman. Darcy has no idea how old Natasha Romanoff is- she could be anywhere from twenty to thirty- but she sounds and acts so much older than anybody Darcy knows in their generation. "He might not always show it. He's shy. Give him time. He's trying." She turns and walks out of the bathroom.

"Trying what?" asks Darcy, but Agent Romanoff is already gone.

 

December 31, 2012, Stark Tower (Pepper)

 

She's feeling a little stressed, but it isn't too bad. Darcy's late, which doesn't help with anything. Pepper sighs and glances around the room where Tony's chosen to have the party. It's the large, open room where he keeps the bar and where he lands after he's been out in the suit. He picked it for the balcony- they can see the ball drop at midnight from there- but mostly because of the well-stocked bar. Pepper is fine with this. She just needs to decorate and make sure all of the food and liquor is delivered and make sure that the security nets she had installed about ten feet below the outer balconies are out after it gets dark. She ordered them put in a few days ago, when Tony picked the room for the party. Knowing Tony's parties, someone will fall off the Tower, and he won't have time to put on the suit and catch them. The nets should do it.

"Sorry I'm late!" gasps Darcy, hurrying in. She has a garment bag, probably with her dress in it, and a purse. She's in jeans and a sweater- working clothes. She looks a little upset about something.

"Are you okay?" she asks, as Darcy sets her garment bag and purse down next to the decoration boxes.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just kind of stressed out, I guess. What are we doing?"

"Decorating," says Pepper. "I know we had mistletoe at the thing we did at the Tower, do we want any of that at this party?"

"It's still the holidays, and it's festive," says Darcy. "If you put it over by the bar, then there will be a lot of laughs."

Pepper smiles. "Laughs are always good. " She reaches into the box and picks a pretty sprig of mistletoe. "I'll do this. Do you want to start on the icicle lights outside?"

Darcy rolls up her sleeves and grabs the lights and the ladder that's leaning on the wall. "Absolutely."

 

December 31, 2012, Stark Tower (Bruce)

 

It's very crowded and noisy here in Tony's party room. Bruce has been up here a few times; during the day it serves as Tony and Pepper's living room. The number of people is almost too many for the room. He cranes his neck, looking for a familiar face, and spots Agents Barton and Romanoff, who have commandeered a table in the corner. He approaches them slowly, not wanting to intrude on anything, but people are avoiding them, probably because Agent Romanoff's handbag is sitting open on the table, and the outline of a gun is clear under the draping fabric.

Barton spots him and waves him over. "Bruce," he says, grinning. "I was just gonna go get drinks for Nat and I, you want one?"

He shakes his head, smiling back. "Alcohol's not really good for me."

"I would hardly call any of this piss alcohol," sniffs Agent Romanoff.

"You're just mad because you don't want to be here," laughs Barton, before he walks away.

That leaves Bruce alone with Agent Romanoff. She smiles at him, though it's more polite than friendly. "How was your holiday, Dr. Banner?"

"You can call me Bruce," he says. He's decided that he can let his teammates on the Avengers Initiative call him Bruce. That's allowable, as they'll probably be working together a lot in the future. "It was very quiet, Agent Romanoff. Just what I prefer."

She nods. "If I call you Bruce, you can call me Natasha."

"Okay. Natasha," says Bruce. It seems almost too intimate, but he remembers that Barton calls her Nat or Tash, so it's just two teammates calling each other by name. "How was your holiday?"

Her gaze flickers over to the bar, where Barton is getting three glass cups, two of which hold alcohol and one of which holds a clear liquid that could either be alcohol or water. "It was also very quiet. I prefer it that way. Clint likes these parties, but I'd rather read a book."

"I'd be down in the lab, but-" He hesitates, before he figures that Natasha probably knows about Darcy, if Barton knows. "Um, Agent Barton suggested I come. I thought, why not." He shrugs, attempting nonchalance.

She's not fooled, of course- she's never fooled. "Darcy's on Tony-herding duty right now, or I'd be surprised if she hadn't come to say hello already. I think she's free at about nine-thirty. I am a little surprised Pepper hasn't found you yet."

"Speaking of which," says Bruce, nodding towards Pepper, who has spotted them and is making her way over to meet them.

"Hello, Bruce! And Agent Romanoff, it's good to see you, again." Neither woman's face makes a reaction, but Bruce feels as though he's missing some vital piece of information in this conversation. "How are you both doing? I'm glad you came."

"Thank you," says Bruce. "It looks like a fun party."

"I'm having fun," says Pepper, smiling, "but I don't have Tony duty yet. He's always fun to be at a party with. See you later!" She waves and walks away.

"I used to have Darcy's job," says Natasha, before he even asks. "I was working for SHIELD, of course, but I was Tony's PA for a while. Both of them resented me somewhat after they found out I was more than what I seemed to be."

Bruce nods. He hadn't necessarily needed to know that, but he knew it was a mark of how much Natasha trusted him, to tell him that. Or maybe she was just making conversation. It was hard to tell.

Barton returns with three cups. He hands the clear one to Bruce. "Seltzer for the teetotaler, and brandy for Nat and I. To the New Year." He clinks his glass against Natasha's and downs it in one.

"I'm not entirely a teetotaler," says Bruce. "If I were a teetotaler, I wouldn't even drink my tea." Both of them laugh. It's kind of a bad pun, but they're drinking alcohol, and you can get away with bad jokes when your audience is somewhat drunk.

He spends half an hour or so talking to them, and then they excuse themselves to do shots at the bar. Bruce isn't interested in doing shots, so he looks around for more familiar faces. He spots Steve, who looks uncomfortable, talking to Jane Foster, who looks bored and uncomfortable, so he walks over to them and says hello, then ends up sitting down and eating snacks with them. They both loosen up a little, with a third person to interact with, and he doesn't even notice the time pass until a hand rests on his shoulder suddenly.

He turns and looks up at Darcy. Her face is tired, but the rest of her is perfect and impeccable. Her dress is green, a warm, bright color that makes her eyes sparkle. She has a plain black cardigan on over the dress, which is no doubt to keep her warm, and she's wearing the scarf he gave her again. Her hair is piled in a deliberately messy knot on the top of her head. Something in his chest begins to hurt and melt at the same time.

"Hey, there, Doc," she says.

"To which of us are you referring?" he asks, pointing at Jane.

"Oh, no," she laughs, sitting down between him and Jane. "She's Jane. You're Doc."

"Oh." He smiles. "You look nice." He wants to tell her she looks beautiful, but he doesn't have the courage.

"Thanks." Her fingers go to the scarf briefly, then settle in her lap, twisting. "You, too. You clean up pretty well."

Bruce glances down at himself. He's wearing a purple shirt, like he usually does, and slacks and shoes. His tie is white. He would have worn his black tie, but he couldn't remember where he put it, as is the case with many of his ties. "Thank you, Darcy. How are you doing?"

"I am officially a veteran of the role of Tony Chaperone-y," she says. "Also, I'm starving. What kind of food is going down at this shindig?"

"Here," says Jane, passing Darcy a platter of little hot dogs wrapped in croissant. "Pigs in a blanket."

"Oh, yum," says Darcy, and she starts eating. Bruce gets her a glass of water.

"You're a gem, Bruce, thank you," she says, beaming at him.

He smiles back, until he notices that Jane and Steve are both watching him and Darcy, amused expressions on their faces, and then he looks away and clears his throat.

"Um, how long are you free for?" he asks Darcy.

"Pepper said she'd take Tony until about twelve-thirty," she answers. "If the party goes on for much longer after that, though, then I get him from twelve-thirty to three-thirty while Pepper takes a nap. After that it should begin to die down, though knowing Tony, it probably won't."

"It's a very loud party," says Steve.

"That's just the music," says Darcy. "I'm not a huge fan of this music, myself." She shrugs. "But it's good for parties, I guess."

"What is this song?" asks Jane, her face crinkled in confusion."

"You don't know this song? Oh, my God, it's like you don't even live with me. It's on the radio all the time."

"I don't pay attention to the radio."

"Bruce, help me out here," says Darcy, turning to him.

"I don't know this song, either," he says sheepishly. "All of the music I listen to is Tony's classic rock collection in the labs and, um, whale songs."

All of them blink. "Whale songs?" repeats Steve.

"It's good for meditation," says Bruce defensively. "Really." But Darcy's warm laughter is worth the slight embarrassment he feels at admitting that he listens to whale songs.

They talk for several more hours. As the hour approaches the New Year, more people crowd out onto the balcony. Jane and Steve express a desire to watch the ball drop and head out into the crowd. Darcy yawns and remains where she is. "I'm really sleepy," she confesses. "I slept in on purpose so that I could stay up later, but it didn't really work, because I've been running around all afternoon."

"If you want to take a little nap, that's fine by me," says Bruce.

She nods. "That sounds like a fantastic idea. Come on." She stands up and grabs his hand, pulling him to his feet.

"Where are we going?" he asks her, even as his stomach clenches a little in excitement.

"To find a couch," she answers.

There's a couch in the room, up on the stairs behind the bar. She sits down next to him and lays her head on his shoulder, then falls asleep.

And the New Year passes in that way, with Darcy asleep on Bruce's shoulder. He doesn't mind at all, though he hopes she's comfortable. And after the ball drops and people are done cheering, most of them file out and go home, except for the hardcore partiers. This wakes Darcy up.

"Oh, is it 2013 already?" she yawns. "Sorry, Doc, I didn't mean to spoil it for you."

"It wasn't spoiled," he assures her.

"I didn't get to kiss anyone, either," she says, rubbing at her eyes. "I suppose it's not too late, though."

She turns and pecks him on the cheek, smiling. He smiles back, hoping that she can't tell that his heart is beating a little too fast for comfort. But it isn't stressful; on the contrary, it's one of the best feelings he's felt in his whole life.

"Happy New Year, Bruce," she says softly.

"Happy New Year, Darcy," he returns.

They smile at each other, and then she has to go in for round two of Tony-wrangling duty and he doesn't see any point in staying if nobody else is here, and anyway, he's kind of tired. So he wanders out of Tony's suite and goes to his own rooms and decides that this is definitely the best New Year's Eve he's had in, well, ever.


	3. That One Time When Coulson Had To Tell Bruce That Darcy Was Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place around the end of Chapter Three in Bay. Told mostly from Coulson's point of view with an interjected bit of Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a scene that was requested by the beautiful and talented scarletseeker113. Coulson mentioned to Steve near the end of Chapter 3 of Bay that they had to sedate Bruce when he found out Darcy had been kidnapped. Therefore, she asked me to write it, as I pretty much specialize in Bruce/Darcy.

Something is not right.

Coulson frowns and pauses, the pen hovering over the puzzle book. He is, for once, caught up with his paperwork. For once. It's a beautiful evening in New York, and he is sitting in his room doing a sudoku because he can't really think of anything else to do.

But that's not what isn't right.

He sniffs the air carefully; he had once had this feeling, a premonition, if you will, when he was in Tokyo on a reconaissance mission for SHIELD. Moments later, someone had lit a match in the apartment and a huge, flaming ball of gas had ignited and blown up the building and set most of a neighboring street on fire. He had barely escaped with his life, and that was only because he had jumped out of the building as the match was being lit.

There's no gas smell, of course. JARVIS knows when to turn off the gas. Coulson sometimes wonders exactly how much JARVIS knows, and also what would happen if there were ever to be a JARVETTE or if JARVIS were to meet some other artificial intelligence that identified more as feminine. The thought amuses him; it's not as though he has anyone else to pair off, not with Tony and Pepper, or Thor and Jane, or Clint and Natasha, or Steve and Meg, or Bruce and Darcy. Everybody is happy with somebody, except for him. He prefers it that way. He also takes credit for all five of those relationships happening, as Jane and Darcy would never have met their boyfriends if it weren't for him, and it took a lot of maturity and nearly dying and some babysitting for Tony to realize what an angel Pepper was, and Steve would never have met Meg if Coulson hadn't technically died on the helicarrier. And of course, there's Clint and Natasha. That one he can't take so much credit for. He does it anyway.

But there's still something wrong.

He glances at the clock, and instantly remembers. _It's eleven-thirty. Tony, Darcy, and Clint were supposed to be back from the charity gala by now_. _They're probably just late._

He still checks his phone, and then his gun. No texts, fully loaded, safety on. Nothing to worry about. He fills in three more numbers on the puzzle.

Then he gets up and walks over to the desk where he left the Starkpad, which he usually only uses for work here in the tower. He presses a few things on the touchscreen and checks Darcy's tumblr account, which she thinks nobody knows about and which she has on her phone. Usually, when she's at these sorts of things with Tony, it's stressful, and she generally liveblogs the entire thing from her phone, with all kinds of whiny hashtags that make him smile even days after. Someday he's going to have to coerce her into writing press for SHIELD, because she's very gifted at sending the right message.

And yes, there's liveblogging, but it stops at eleven-oh-seven. Twenty-three minutes ago. That, in and of itself, is unusual.

He opens his phone and checks for texts again, then calls the two other agents who were supposed to be working at the gala, unofficially as Tony's security. Natasha had wanted to go, because Clint was on assignment, but he had said no. It was too close to her association with Stark Industries, when she had had Darcy's job.

"Sitwell," he says curtly into the phone. "Where's Stark and Lewis?"

"They said they were going home, and Barton told me he'd keep an eye on them and Phelps and I could clock out-"

That's all he needs to hear. He hangs up and dials Clint's cell phone.

"Pick up, you idiot," he murmurs.

There's nothing. Only a dial tone.

He hangs up and calls Tony's phone, then Darcy's. Nothing.

He tries Sitwell again.

"Coulson, what's going on-"

"What's going on is that you screwed up," says Coulson. He keeps his voice calm, as he's trained himself to do. "Neither Barton, nor Stark, nor Lewis, is answering their phones. I want you to inform Director Fury that they are missing and that we have no further evidence. Then I want you to hack into the camera feeds at the gala event. You still have that set up, don't you? Then have Phelps looking at cameras around where Barton was stationed."

"Yes, sir. And I'm sorry, sir." Sitwell is apologetic by nature, which is what will make him more of an ideal paper-pusher in the years to come.

"Don't apologize until we know something's gone wrong," replies Coulson, and then he hangs up and closes his eyes and waits for a few minutes, hoping against hope that all of their cell phones are on silent and they went out to get ice cream.

No such luck. His Starkpad lights up with video feeds, and as he watches the camera clips, JARVIS obligingly enhances the images and separates them into stills so that he can print out photos for mission dossiers. Well, one mission dossier. Steve still prefers his assignments on paper.

 _One thing at a time_ , he reminds himself.

He calls Director Fury.

"Coulson, did you lose two Avengers and a PA on my watch?" says Fury, and Coulson can already hear an enormous shitstorm waiting to happen.

"I didn't lose them, sir, as I was not on assignment. Sitwell and Phelps lost them, and you can yell at them when it's convenient but right now it's not going to help either of us or anybody else find them."

He doesn't know when he became so defiant of Nick Fury. It probably has something to do with the fact that the man collected his prize Captain America trading cards from his locker when he was dying and smeared blood all over them. It probably also has something to do with the fact that he likes to blame Coulson for some of the frankly ridiculous things the Avengers get up to in their free time, like throwing people off buildings and Nerf gun wars and hazing Stark Tower staff and AIs.

There's a pause. "Yeah, okay," says Fury, a little sarcastically. Coulson could tell he wasn't expecting a defense. "What do we do now?"

"If it looks like a kidnapping, then we start searching and inform their teammates," says Coulson. "If they decided to all turn off their phones and go to Ruby Tuesday, then we retrieve them and you can yell at them until I make them feel bad, which seems to be par for the course."

Fury chuckles dryly. "I'll let you inform their teammates," he says. "Seeing how you are already there, and you'll know the best way to to do it without unpleasant repercussions."

"Of course. Then you'll start the camera search?"

"Sitwell and Phelps will start the camera search," says Fury. "We'll call when we've got something."

Coulson hangs up. He decides to start with Natasha. He will need her to get over the emotional shock first and be ready for action. Plus, she would never forgive him if he didn't go to her first.

He knocks on her door and tells her the news quietly. She says nothing, her face doesn't even flicker, but after he turns to go, the door slams closed behind him. He doesn't even turn around, and he pretends he doesn't hear a thing.

The next one to tell is Pepper, because she's got almost as many resources with Stark Industries as he does with SHIELD and it's possible she and JARVIS can aid them in the search.

"Miss Potts," he says politely at her door.

"Come in," she says.

She's sitting on the couch, wearing a T-shirt and jeans, which for Pepper is like sweats, and she's doing paperwork in front of the television.

She takes one look at his face and she knows something's wrong. "What's happened? Is it Tony? Is he alright?"

"We don't know," says Coulson. "He was supposed to be back from the charity gala at eleven-oh-five. It's nearly midnight, and neither he nor Clint nor Darcy is answering their cell phones. We're looking at a kidnapping right now as the most likely event."

Pepper closes her eyes and tries to regulate her breathing. It's not working very well.

"If it would help you, you can put in a call to Nick Fury and have JARVIS start looking at video feeds," suggests Coulson. He knows Pepper; like himself, she's the kind of person that needs something to do with her hands when she's upset. "It would certainly help us."

She nods and takes a deep breath before setting aside her paperwork and getting her phone and Starkpad out to work on it. He nods and leaves her there. She'll be fine. Pepper is one of the most resilient women he knows.

 Jane and Thor are in the kitchen. Jane cries and Thor immediately insists on doing a recon flight over the city. Coulson lets him go, knowing that it's pointless, but that he couldn't stop him if he tried and that it will make him feel better, anyway.

 He walks into the little closet on the same floor as Tony and Bruce's R and D labs where they keep medicine both legal and illegal, and finds a small metal basin labeled "Sleep" in Bruce's neat handwriting. The other man had told Tony, Darcy, Coulson, and Natasha what was in the basin, but nobody else. Sedatives for the Hulk, should he ever make an appearance in the tower. There were three empty needles and two full ones. Coulson's surprised that any of them were used at all, but Bruce knows better than anybody when he needs to sleep.

 

................................................................................

 

 

Bruce yawns and stretches. He's done for the night, surprisingly enough. He rarely finishes this early, and usually when he does it's because he's not actually done and Darcy is pulling him away from work to sleep or eat or other things.

He reaches for the mug sitting by the computer. It had lemon tea in it, but it's cold now. He takes a sip, grimaces, and decides he will go make himself a new mug.

"Dr. Banner," says a voice, and he blinks and turns around.

Agent Coulson is there. He has his phone in one hand, and his face is carefully blank, as always.

"Agent Coulson," says Bruce, smiling. "I was just done for the night. Do you know what time it is?"

"It's a little past midnight," answers Coulson. "I have some distressing news, which you might want to sit down to prepare yourself for."

Past midnight? He doesn't quite hear the rest of what Coulson's saying. Darcy said she would be home by eleven-fifteen, at the latest. That makes her at least forty-five minutes late. He remembers it because when she left she kissed him on the forehead and pushed the mug of lemon tea, fresh then, in front of him. And she was wearing an incredibly pretty dress, too. Darcy was always beautiful, but she was stunning, in her semi-formal gown and dark curls cascading over her shoulders.

"Dr. Banner," says Coulson carefully, "we have reason to believe that Clint and Tony and Darcy might have been kidnapped."

For a moment it doesn't register, but when it does the Other Guy snarls to life in the back of his brain.

"What?" he says flatly.

"They left the building at which the gala was being held at eleven-oh-nine," says Coulson. "We have video feeds of them getting into a limo. No feeds on Clint just yet. And none of them are answering their cell phones."

He inhales sharply, then exhales. He knows he's shaking, but he can't actually feel it.

 _Darcy. Gone. Missing_. The words, thrown at him not by Coulson but by the Other Guy, lace through his mind like fire arrows, burning all they touch with green.

"Dammit," he mumbles.

For a moment, he wonders if by letting the Other Guy out he could follow her scent to wherever it ended up at. The thought decreases his control, as both he and the Other Guy think it would be a good idea. An exquisite pain shoots through his nerves. If he turns now, he won't remember that pain later.

"Dr. Banner," says Coulson, and there is yes, just a touch of nervousness in his voice. "We need you to remain calm. You're the only scientist who has the know-how to track Tony's arc reactor. The faster that's done, the faster you can see Darcy-"

A voice that's not his rips out of his mouth. " _Darcy_!" it roars. "Tell me, Agent Coulson, do you think you could keep- calm- under _these_ circumstances?"

And then he gives in, retreating behind the Other Guy to let him take over- but Agent Coulson darts forwards, and in the hand that's not holding his phone he has a large needle holding a purple liquid. What's left of Bruce inside him recognizes it as his sedative before everything turns green, and then black.

 

.................................................................................

 

Coulson picks Bruce up and carries him downstairs, where he runs into Thor.

"Son of Coul," says Thor gravely, taking Bruce without even asking. "I had a stroke of inspiration when I was surveying the skies. As I flew I returned to Asgard, to see what had become of my brother. I discovered that he had escaped the prison where we thought we had held him captive. He left only the metal guard that had kept his silver tongue imprisoned. My father is furious, and my mother is worried."

"You think Loki might be behind the kidnappings?" says Coulson, all sorts of nasty ideas coming to mind.

"Yes," replies Thor. There is a deep and utterly raw sorrow in his voice. "It would be like him, to seek revenge on me in this way. And it would make sense for him to choose our shield-brothers Tony and Clint and the Lady Darcy."

"Why would it make sense?" asks Coulson. They went into Bruce's room and laid him on the bed.

"He would have stolen Jane, I think, if he could have got her, but she was safe with me and he would not dare to take her from my very arms. However, he knew that the Lady Darcy would be the right person to steal to hurt me. This hurts Jane and me, as we are very fond of Darcy."

"Do you think he knows that it would also upset Bruce?" inquires Coulson.

"If he has been watching us long enough to know that my friends were to be absent from the tower on this night, then I would venture to say that he does know this."

"What about Tony?"

"If my brother is truly bent on a great mischief, he no doubt believes he can coerce the Man of Iron into creating some monstrosity of metal and smoke," says Thor grimly. "And as for our shield-brother Clint, he probably remembers that Clint saw and heard many things while they were under the compulsion of the spear, and knows that if Clint were to remain free he would be able to give us information about where he had spirited away the Man of Iron and the Lady Darcy."

"Shit."

"My sentiments precisely."

He finds that Natasha is calling Steve and he takes the opportunity to grab one of the thousands of black SUVs that they keep for SHIELD and Stark Industries and really for everything and goes to pick him up himself. Steve is the most composed, out of all of them. Coulson doesn't include himself in that figure, because he's always composed. He figures he doesn't count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Hipster Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy persuades Bruce to wear this weird outfit and walk around New York drinking coffee. "What the hell is a hipster?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written yesterday, when my roommate (scarletseeker113) and I, coincidentally, dressed up as hipsters and went to Starbucks and wrote for three hours. She asked me to write Bruce and Darcy doing a hipster day.
> 
> Takes place approximately two months after Bay, probably during No Happy Ending (but don't hold me too closely to the timeline on this one). Bruce's POV. (I write him better than I do Darcy. It just feels more natural.)
> 
> (P.S. I have nothing personally against hipsters, it's just that their purpose seems to be to look down on those of us who enjoy the stuff that everyone likes, and I think the fashion is cute. Writing from a different perspective than my own, however, has never been particularly difficult for me, because I think that all perspectives have some small modicum of truth, otherwise people wouldn't have them. For instance, I don't know anybody with the perspective that Morgan Freeman is not God, because he clearly is. :) [That was a joke. As are all of my stereotypical comments about hipsters in this fic.] Bless you for reading.)

Bruce is working quietly in his lab. It's very early on a Saturday morning. He slipped out of bed around six, leaving a note for Darcy, who likes to sleep late when she can. Peter and the new kid are opening the diner today, which means that she is sleeping. Bruce doesn't mind all the time she spends at the diner, because it makes her happy. Being in the labs makes him happy.

 It's around eight that he hears a noise behind him and turns, hoping that whoever it is didn't have long to wait before he heard. It's Darcy. She's just coming inside, and she's wearing the scarf he gave her for Christmas last December, even though it's mid-May. She has jeans that taper her shapely legs very tightly, rolled up at the cuffs so that they reach her ankles; a pair of battered gray Converse with mismatched ankle socks; and a plaid short-sleeved shirt over a tank top that would be low-cut if he could see under the scarf. A slim, brown leather satchel is slung across her chest.

"You're up early," he says, smiling. "I would have thought that you'd be asleep until eleven, at least."

"I have plans for today," she replies. "Plans that involve me and you and not being in this lab all day. Come on."

He glances at her outfit, then at the cap that lies loosely over her dark curls. "Where will we be?"

"Starbucks," she answers. "Maybe also the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and possibly Central Park."

Bruce opens his mouth, then closes it. A very tight, dark feeling begins to well up in his gut.

"I'm not sure that would be a very good idea," he says, trying carefully not to look at her or make it seem like her fault.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm dangerous, and if I'm recognized we could both be hurt, and what would happen if I get angry, or if the Avengers are assembled while I'm gone-"

Darcy strides across the room and pulls his lab chair away from his desk with him in it. She sits on an empty silver table and pulls his chair in with her feet, the Converse resting on his chair arms.

She leans forward and says, "Bruce, it's been about a year since you helped save New York from certain destruction, and Tony Stark from death. I understand that you've been through a lot, and that you are emotionally scarred. And if you still really don't want to go outside, I'm not going to make you. But I think that it would be nice if we could go on a date."

"A date?" says Bruce, furrowing his brow.

 "A date," repeats Darcy. "You know, an activity where two people who like each other do something that at least one of them enjoys. Tony and Pepper don't have much time to go on dates, because they always end up doing work or getting called off to do stuff with SI or the SHIELD. Clint and Natasha keep their private lives very private, so nobody knows what they do, if they're doing anything like dating. Steve had Meg for a while, and they went out on maybe three dates. Thor and Jane just have sex pretty much all the time when she's not in the labs. Now, I like you, and I think we should spend time together, and I think we should have an adventure because you don't ever get too far in life without pushing at your comfort zone." Her blue eyes meet his.

Bruce suddenly realizes exactly what Darcy's giving up by being with him. Normal men take their girlfriends on dates- out to dinner, to the movies, sightseeing. Normal men don't spend twelve hours a day at a desk working. Normal men aren't expected to save the world on a regular basis. Normal men don't turn into giant green monsters when they get angry.

_If she can sacrifice normality for me, I can surely sacrifice my fears for her._

"Okay," he says, pushing his chair back and standing up. Her legs dangle from the table.

"Okay?" she says, a slow smile spreading over her face.

"Okay," he affirms. "Let's go to Starbucks."

"We have to change your outfit first," says Darcy, grinning as she leans forward and hugs him, burying her nose just above his heart.

"My outfit? What does that have to do with it?"

Darcy grins.

 

 

"You have got to be kidding me," Bruce says flatly.

 He stares at the outfit Darcy has laid out on his bed. It's one of his regular button-down shirts, which is fine, but the jeans are wrong, so dark blue as to be nearly black, and tapering down near the ankle like hers. The shoes sitting at the base of the pants appear to be made out of a thin fabric, similar to the shoes of the children he's seen in Africa and India. Worst of all, a plaid scarf is sitting next to the button-down shirt. It matches the shirt and the shoes, because the shirt is purple and the shoes are green and the scarf is green and purple plaid.

"I kid you not," says Darcy, grinning. "We're posing as hipsters, Bruce."

"What the hell is a hipster?"

"There isn't a definition," says Darcy. "If you are one, you know what it is. If you don't, you have no idea. But they have a pretty defined fashion sense, one that looks like it's a combination of digging through the bowels of a thrift store and your grandmother's closet. And there's a lot of plaid and flannel and skinny jeans and it's just kind of funny to look at all the inconsistencies of style."

"That's it?"

"Well, no," says Darcy. "They like to take pictures of their food with Instagram. Which we can't do, because Fury said I wasn't allowed to have an Instagram because releasing pictures of you guys without express permission from him is worth like, a lot of money and SHIELD discipline."

Bruce stares at her.

"Just put the outfit on," says Darcy. "You won't look weird or anything. All the cool kids do it."

"That's my point," answers Bruce, trying to be patient. "I'm in my mid-thirties, more approaching my late thirties. I'm hardly what you would call a cool kid."

"Please?" says Darcy, tilting her head and pursing her lips a little in what would be called a pout on an ordinary person.

He can't refuse those eyes. "Fine," he says, undoing the buttons on the navy-blue button-down he's already wearing.

"I'm gonna go get a couple more things for you," says Darcy, going into his closet.

He has a hard time getting the jeans on because they are incredibly clingy, but he manages. It's a good thing he has yoga and the occasional large and verdant temper tantrum to keep himself in shape. The shoes were not accompanied with socks. They have little tags on them. He squints to read them without his glasses.

"Darcy, what are TOMS?"

She pokes her head out of the closet and wiggles her eyebrows at his half-buttoned shirt. "Looking good, Doc. TOMS are these shoes invented by this dude who for every pair sold donates a pair of sneakers to a kid in Africa. These are based on the shoes that the kids there wear, but they're a little more fashion-conscious."

"I'll say. Do you wear socks with them?"

"Nope."

He awkwardly slides his feet in. It feels like he's walking around barefoot. One sliver of glass on the streets of New York and he'll get tetanus briefly before destroying the city and expelling the germs from his immune system.

The scarf he's not really sure what to do with, until Darcy exits his closet and fixes it for him, then plops a flat cap over his unruly hair and sticks a pair of Aviators on his nose.

"These were really big in the eighties," says Bruce, raising an eyebrow. "You know, when I was a kid."

"Retro is in," answers Darcy. "There. Would your own mother know you?"

He peers into the mirror. He knows it's just an expression, what Darcy said, but it rankles a little. He ignores it. "I look like a pretentious college student," he says flatly.

"That's the idea, Doc," says Darcy, beaming. "Let's go get our stinking coffee, shall we?"

 

 

 They head for the elevator, hand in hand, but a vaguely annoyed voice calls, "Hey, Darcy!"

She turns, and Bruce turns with her, getting ready to bear teasing from Tony.

Tony stops dead and stares at both of them. "Here I was, getting ready to chew you out for cheating on Bruce with some little hipster shitface, and I find that Bruce has become a little hipster shitface. What in the name of God are you wearing?"

"She made me," says Bruce.

"I did," agrees Darcy. "Doesn't he look adorable?"

"No," says Tony. "He looks like a douchebag. All he needs is a goatee like mine."

Clint drops down suddenly from the ceiling, takes one look at Bruce and Darcy, and begins laughing uncontrollably. "Oh, my God," he chokes. "Tash! Come look at this. This is hilarious."

"Thank you for the peanut gallery," mumbles Bruce, and Darcy squeezes his hand in comfort.

Natasha pokes her head out of a nearby door, glances Bruce and Darcy over, then blinks, steps fully out of the room she's in, and stares for almost a whole minute. Tony and Clint are staring at her expectantly.

After a moment, her face turns red, and she turns around for a minute. When she faces them again, her face is its ordinary complexion. "I like the scarf," she says, totally deadpan. "Nice touch." Her voice cracks on the word "touch" and she ducks back into the room she was in. Bruce can hear her laughing quietly, and vows to himself that he will burn this scarf when he gets home.

"We're going on a date now, if you're quite finished laughing at me," he says, pressing the button for the elevator, even though he doesn't have to. Jarvis would have brought it up if he'd asked.

"You know that whatever they say will be worse than what anybody on the street says," grins Darcy. "See you later, Tony, and Clint."

They get into the elevator. The doors close on Tony and Clint's laughter and Bruce sighs quietly.

"Having second thoughts?" she asks him, smiling.

"No," says Bruce. "The only thing more embarassing than that actually was would be changing my mind here in the elevator and getting teased about it when I got back upstairs."

"That's my boy," laughs Darcy, and she stands on tiptoe and kisses him on the nose.

 

 

 They meander through New York. Darcy gets an iced caramel frappucino and Bruce gets green chai tea. Darcy still takes pictures of their cups with her phone, with their names written on them. Bruce is an easy enough name, and the cashier spells it right, but Darcy gives her name as "Becky" and has that written on the cup instead.

"There isn't a security reason you gave a wrong name, is there?" he askes, a little concerned.

"No," says Darcy. "If I give them my real name, they spell it wrong. It's just easier to give the wrong name." She shrugs.

At first, the crowds of people are demanding, oppressive. Bruce shrinks a little behind his sunglasses and wishes he was back in the Tower working on Peter's DNA testing or some crazy project for SI. But eventually, he begins to notice that the people around him aren't even giving him a second glance. Sometimes they look at his scarf, or his glasses, but never at him.

"They don't see the Hulk," says Darcy, squeezing his hand. "They see a random dude who might be named Bruce. They don't see a scientist. They see an older guy who has a nice enough body that he can follow current fashions and still look fantastic."

"I look like an idiot," says Bruce, shaking his head.

"Listen," says Darcy. "When we were in the Starbucks, waiting in line, there were two girls sitting in the corner with their laptops. They _both_ checked you out. You are one attractive fella, Bruce Banner, and don't you forget it."

"I try not to notice people who check you out," says Bruce dryly. "If I did, I would rip out of these incredibly tight jeans and start punching anybody who looked at you the wrong way."

"Let 'em look," says Darcy airily. "There's only one who gets to have me, and here's a hint: we're holding hands."

She smiles softly at him, as they make their way up the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and he reaches over and kisses her right there on the steps, because unbelievably, this sweet, funny, vivacious beauty thinks he's something worth having around, even if he doesn't. And for that, he would wear skinny jeans every day of his life, if that were required, because being with Darcy would be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept having to ask scarletseeker113 questions. "What should Bruce have to wear?" "Yes or no on the scarf?" "What kind of shoes?" And then it all came together.
> 
> "The new kid" is an intentionally ambiguous phrase. I assume there are more people than Darcy and Peter working in the diner and therefore probably she will have to hire a "new kid" to work there at some point.
> 
> Tony was necessary. And then I thought, what the hell, let's throw in Clint and Natasha. Also, I know it's out of character for Natasha to lose control of her laughter, but my point is that it was a controlled loss of control. She wouldn't have to laugh if she didn't want to.


End file.
